2.9.2007: Sick Day

The lights come up on a Playwright Temp. He’s a little frazzled. He’s scrambling through a stack of pages.

The Curiosity enters. Checks this guy out.

THE CURIOSITY
Um. Hey.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Yes?

THE CURIOSITY
Um. Have you seen…

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
He’s out sick today. Sorry. He’s got a cold or something. Or coming down with a cold. I don’t know. They don’t really give you enough backstory when you take one of these jobs. So I’m kind of winging it.

THE CURIOSITY
Oh.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Who are you again? You the Fella?

THE CURIOSITY
No. He wrote him out a couple weeks ago. I’m the Curiosity.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Oh. Ok. I have notes on you here somewhere…

The Playwright Temp flips through note cards, while The Curiosity waits.

THE CURIOSITY
Listen…

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Wait!

The Playwright Temp holds up a single finger – the “just one second you’re bothering me” finger – and continues to flip through cards. When he finds the one he’s looking for:

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP (cont.)
Ah! Yes. You’re not in today’s play.

THE CURIOSITY
I’m not.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
No.

A moment, as the Curiosity considers the irony of that.

THE CURIOSITY
Well, can you let him know I stopped by?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Sure.

The Curiosity starts off.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Hey! What do you think about today’s play being about the death of Anna Nicole Smith?

THE CURIOSITY
I think I’m glad I’m not in today’s play.

The Curiosity goes, as the Playwright Temp starts to write his play (which we will never see because when the Guy returns from being sick, he’s so outraged that anyone would think to write a play about the death of Anna Nicole Smith, that he clubs the Playwright Temp on the head and sends him back to graduate school.)

The lights fade.